As a chic, my womanly supplies su-diddily-uck.
My makeup is old. I haven’t bought new eye shadow in a year and I’ve used the same blush since December 2004. I don’t even own foundation. Or lipstick. Instead, I use Burt’s Bees Lip Shimmer (tinted chapstick), for ya know, when I’m trying to sex-up my smile.
I have long hair. I always have. Yet I only know how to style it about four different ways. ‘Using a different barrette’ constitutes as one of those style variations. My curling iron and blow dryer are at least ten years old. The room smells of burnt-something when I use either of them. I don’t have top quality hair products to tame my waves and on any humid day, my hair ends up looking frizzy and out-of-control like Cameron Diaz in Being John Malkovitch.
I have a horrible wardrobe. I own a few select items that fit properly and thus, I wear them over and over again. I’m hanging on to clothes from nine years ago, a time when I weighed less than 110 pounds.
I’m 29. I no longer have the body of a teenager; I have womanly curves, which means my old clothes are too small. And it’s no secret that small or otherwise ill-fitting clothes can lower a woman’s self-esteem.
I don’t have any accessories. Sure, I have a few necklaces and bracelets, but I need purses, belts, scarves, jewelry and so on. If I am lucky enough to put together a semi-cute outfit, I can’t accessorize. Even my shoe collection sucks. Again, I’m hanging onto things that need to be thrown out.
And while we’re on the subject of a total makeover, aren’t I supposed to have a huge trunk full of sexy bras, panties and lingerie?
The saga continues
Due to my lackluster wardrobe I never know what to wear. It does not matter the occasion, I have to ask James for advice about how I should dress. The other day he finally said, “I’m a man. I don’t want to answer questions like, ‘What should I wear?’ You’re a chic, you should know that stuff.”
The problem is I don’t know that stuff. I never know what to wear. I never seem to have anything appropriate. To cope, I’m learning tricks to get around my persistent fashion dilemma.
This morning my friend Jessica picked me up to go for a workout. Of course, I didn’t know what to wear so I asked,
“Are you wearing yoga pants?” ---No, I’m wearing Capris.
“Tank top or t-shirt?” ---Two tanks, actually.
“Did you put your hair up? Bun or ponytail?” ---Ponytail.
Of course when she picked me up I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail, was wearing Capri pants and two layered tank tops.
I had no other options, I swear.